


Fight those Fairies

by HazelDomain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aliens, Crack Treated Seriously, Episode: s06e09 Clap Your Hands If You Believe, Fae & Fairies, Forced Orgasm, Light Bondage, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Nipples, No Plot/Plotless, Other, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Tiny people sex, but with horny fairies, it's that scene from Gulliver's travels, like literally lilliputian sex, not midgets, probing table
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 06:09:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6458917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelDomain/pseuds/HazelDomain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And then suddenly, I was, uh, I was in a different place. And there were these beings, and they were too bright to look at, but I could feel them pulling me towards this sort of table—<br/>I went crazy. I started hacking and slashing and firing. They actually seemed surprised. I don’t think anybody’s ever done that before. Yeah. I had a close encounter, and I won.   </p>
<p> </p>
<p>... or at least, that's what he told Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fight those Fairies

“Empathy, Sam! Empathy!”

The rows of corn were lit up bright as day, and Dean was trying to think of a way to describe his situation without using the phrase “bright white light” because these were not aliens, they were _not,_ they _were not._

He was out of places to run. The car was dead, he knew that from past abductions, and as he turned around he realized he’d never be able to fight off something that big. Never. The glowing orb had to be a quarter of a mile in diameter, shining like the sun and oh, god, it was a UFO.

For the first time in his life, Dean missed Gabriel.

Sam was calling his name, but Dean couldn’t use the phone, cock his gun, and draw his knife at the same time, and in the case of a fight, the phone was the least helpful, so down it went. Hopefully the robot that had replaced his brother would have the wherewithal to come looking if he vanished.

The light got brighter- if that was even possible- and Dean prepared himself for a fight.

It was too bright.

Even with his eyes shut, it was painfully, blindingly bright.

He heard motion to one side and slashed out with the knife. Even blinded, he might have the element of surprise.

The knife was gone. Had he dropped it? His hand suddenly tightened on nothing at all.

He brought the gun up, firing twice, only to realize that it was missing too.

God damn tractor beams.

The light was dimming slightly, he could hear and feel motion all around him, now.

He lashed out toward one of them, not making contact with anything, but when he stepped back, he realized he could feel carpet underneath his bare feet.

_What the hell?_

He cracked one eye open.

He was in his hotel room. Or a room on the spacecraft made up to look like his hotel room. He couldn’t be sure.

Wherever it was, it was full of little flying glowing snowballs that he assumed were aliens. There were at least a half dozen of them, but it was hard to count since they were all flitting around spastically and some of them were in the bathroom.

One of them nudged against his shoulder, sending little tingles down his arm. He pressed his hand against his bicep and realized that along with his weapons, they’d taken his shirt. And his watch. And-

He glanced down.

Oh, _fuck_ no.

Motherfuckers took his pants.

The snowball nudged his shoulder again and he slapped it across the room. It corrected course before it hit a wall and returned with a vengeance, flying right up into his face and chittering loudly at him.

This close, he could see a form inside the light. He squinted at it. It looked like a chick. A very small, very naked, very buxom chick.

With wings. And…

“Nipples?”

She hit him in the face and he staggered backward.

Hell of a punch for a girl who could fit in a beer bottle.

He rubbed his face. No blood, which was good. And it didn’t really hurt so much as just… tingled.

Another starburst erupted from his lower back and he realized he was being pushed forward. Toward the bed. No.

He dug in his heels and turned, swatting at the little woman pushing him forward, but she dodged and another took her place.

“Hey, no, we can talk about this.”

His bare feet were sliding along the carpet. Christ, these little things were strong.

The tingles were focused on his lower back, but the harder she pushed, the further they spread and the deeper they went. The muscles in his back and shoulders and ass were turning to putty, and by the time his shins hit the bedframe, it was almost a relief to be able to collapse onto the mattress instead of the floor.

He couldn’t make his muscles respond, the tingling was like electricity, overriding his brain’s commands. He couldn’t do anything but lie there as the creatures swarmed over his body. There was one on the back of his neck, playing with the hair on his nape. At least four were on his arms, holding them down, tracing lightly up and down from his shoulders to the tips of his fingers. Some of them were spiraling around his back, moving up and down his spine and mapping out the muscles of his shoulders. And below that-

He clenched his eyes shut, trying not to feel the tingling pressure on his thighs and calves and ass. There had to be at least eight of them down there, blowing his original ‘dozen’ estimate out of the water.

There was no way he could fight- what, fifteen? Twenty?

He tried to push himself up onto his elbows, but his muscles were like rubber. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been this relaxed. Waves of tingling contentment were crashing over his body and he was quickly forgetting why he wanted to fight.

He remembered, fast, when two of them slithered under his chest and flipped him over. He drew his knees up, trying to protect his junk, but before he could even swat at one of the little glowing babes, they’d pinned his arms above his head. He kicked out at them, but barely managed to land a glancing blow before they’d pinned his legs, too.

Dean felt the beginnings of panic fluttering in his stomach, but he shoved it down. He’d been pinned by scarier shit and gotten out fine. This wasn’t any more dangerous, just because he was naked.

One of the women settled just over his belly button and he twisted, trying to dislodge her. The tingles were overwhelming on the sensitive skin, and he was firmly committed to ‘overwhelming’ because it did not _tickle,_ god dammit.

He couldn’t see her, but he was pretty sure she was playing with the hair of his treasure trail. He couldn’t see, but he was pretty sure it was making him hard. He groaned.

Another settled near her, halfway between his belly button and his cock, and the tingles were going up the top of his dick and oh, god, he was definitely popping a boner now. He yanked against the creatures holding his wrists, but he only succeeded in sending a wave of tingling warmth from his wrists to his elbows.

More of them were settling on him now. Tiny hands were playing with his nipples, pinching and chattering with pleasure when they hardened. He thought maybe he could feel tiny mouths on them, but he wasn’t going to think about that.

He twisted again when one of them discovered his underarm, pulling lightly on the hair and sending a ripple of tingles up the underside of his arm. He writhed helplessly against the creatures holding him. He couldn’t help it. They twittered with amusement.

Sadists.

One of them was sitting in the hollow of his hip, and she was working her way dangerously close to his jutting erection. It occurred to him that his cock was actually _taller_ than her, a theory which was confirmed when she stood up and embraced it. Tingling warmth enveloped his cock and he moaned, thrusting uselessly upward.

They liked that.

One of them settled between his legs, kneading his balls. He shuddered and tried to close his legs. He managed to pin her between his thighs for a moment, but the plan backfired because two of them grasped his knees and hauled them almost painfully far apart.

They resumed their investigation of his balls, and he moaned and twisted when he realized they were using his thighs like spectator stands, settling in to watch the show. His entire body was tingling, he was getting spikes of sensation from his belly and his thighs and his nipples and his cock and his balls and the hollow of his throat and his wrists and fingers and he couldn’t focus. They were stroking and pulling and sucking and biting and it was too much.

The tingling heat between his legs was sinking lower over his balls, onto his perineum and oh, god, no-

That tingling pressure ghosted over his ass and the panic hit him full force before he realized he was coming. Black spots covered his vision and he was straining against everything, his abs and thighs taut and his hands fisting in the sheets. He let out a sound somewhere between a shout and a growl, and then ropes of cum were landing on his chest and belly.

The chattering stopped. The little glowing creatures were frozen and silent.

And then they burst into delighted pandemonium, swarming over his body to see this new development. He felt tiny hands all over him, rubbing the cum into his skin and scooping it up to taste it or throw it or whatever the fuck little glowing flying aliens did with spoodge. One of them was licking it off the head of his cock and he whined, trying to pull free because it was too much, too much, _too much._ He was panting and squirming and he might have been talking, but it was impossible to tell. His mind was filled with a vague white buzzing that matched the tingling coming from every nerve in his body.

They wanted him to do it again.

There were more of them now, he was pretty sure.

_My dick’s gone viral,_ he thought to himself, and it would be funny if he weren’t being stroked into an out-of-body experience. There were at least three of them on his cock, stroking a not-quite counterpoint with a little bit of a twist.

He’d never felt anything like it and if it weren’t such an insane overstimulation he’d probably be coming again already.

Tiny mouths were on his balls, licking and sucking and lifting them out of the way-

“No!” he shouted, snapping back into himself for the moment it took to remember that he was completely pinned. They reacted by yanking his knees higher and wider apart, completely exposing his ass.

“No, please,” he begged but they paid him no mind. He felt tiny, tingling hands inspecting him, pressing against the puckered hole and he came even as his face was flushing red with embarrassment.

 

_It’s magic,_ he told himself as he lay there panting. A sheen of sweat had broken out over his whole body, and his hair was plastered to his forehead. _They’re making me come with magic._

He knew two things for sure.

Bert and Ernie were gay, and Dean Winchester was straight. The kind of straight where he didn’t come from having his ass played with.

Magic.

It had to be.

 

Something hot and tingling pushed itself inside him, sudden and brusque, and he came again.

 

“Please,” he panted when he could form words again. “Please.”

He wasn’t sure what he was begging for.

Hot, tiny mouths were sucking the head of his cock while equally tiny hands stroked up and down the shaft. Waves of tingling heat were making their way over his arms and legs and abs and chest and neck and at least one of them was playing with his hair and ears and he didn’t have the energy to struggle.

One of them slipped her tiny little tongue into the hole at the tip of his cock and his vision whited out.

It was somewhat satisfying to imagine the tiny little alien getting a massive faceful of his cum. He imagined maybe he could hear giggling.

_Take that, bitch._

 

This is why they’re all crazy, he realizes.

The UFO people. The abductees.

There’s no way he’s getting out of this with all his marbles still in the sack.

There have to be fifty of them, now, covering every inch of him with that hot, tingling pressure. Everything from his ribcage to his knees has dissolved into one vague, over stimulated haze of pleasure. He didn’t know how long he’d been here. Hours, probably.

His usual refractory period was forty minutes but they’d cut it down to probably six.

He could use that to figure it out, if he could remember how many times he’d come.

Dozens?

His vision was spotty and his limbs had gone from rubber to noodles to water. He didn’t even know if they were holding him down anymore. It didn’t matter.

They stretched his ass wider and he came again, just as hard as before, as all the times before.

He wondered if you could die from semen-induced dehydration.  

 

Eventually, they got bored with him.

It had been hours, he was sure of it. Maybe as long as days.

They wandered off in ones and twos, abandoning his fingers and toes and thighs and belly. His legs collapsed bonelessly onto the bed and no one came to push them apart again. Eventually there was only one left, sitting on his chest, looking at him with a little smile.

“Hey, Tinkerbell,” he said. His voice was hoarse. She smiled, a crooked little grin, and snapped her fingers.

 

He fired twice and lashed out with the knife, then staggered. He was back in the field.

He looked around. No light. No UFO. No manic sex pixies.

His clothes were back on his body, his knife and gun exactly where he had left them.

He searched around on the ground. No phone.

The bone-deep exhaustion was gone, replaced by a loose sort of relaxation.

He felt… good. Better than he had in a while, actually.

It was a good thing, because the Impala was gone. Looked like he was walking back.

 

At least it gave him plenty of time to figure out what to tell Sam.

**Author's Note:**

> I was down to seventeen prompts left for February/March and now the APRIL prompts are open. I am drowning in porn plots. I will die with fifty tabs open, I swear to Chuck.


End file.
